


Aerodynamics

by starri



Series: Continuum Mechanics [1]
Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Coming of Age, Fluff, Multi, Wingfic, slight social commentary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:44:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3202988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starri/pseuds/starri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yoo Youngjae, put your dick away this instant! I had to spend <i>hours</i> convincing my mom that you are the most wonderful little angel before she even <i>considered</i> letting me live off campus.”</p><p>“Well,” Youngjae shifts his dark auburn feathers, “that was very literal of you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. continuum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuum model assumes that the subject under observation fills the entire space it physically manifests.

“Youngjae.”

“What.”

“Why are you naked? Not that I’m complaining—actually, haha, just kidding, I am fucking complaining because my parents are _literally just downstairs waiting to check out our place.”_

Youngjae throws Daehyun an unimpressed glance.

“I’m preening.”

Daehyun looks slightly hysterical, straightening things unnecessarily in a last ditch attempt to make their very poorly furnished apartment look less shitty. “Yoo Youngjae, put your dick away this instant! I had to spend _hours_ convincing my mom that you are the most wonderful little angel before she even _considered_ letting me live off campus.”

“Well,” Youngjae shifts his dark auburn feathers, “that was very literal of you.”

“ _Yoo Youngjae_.”

The door intercom buzzes.

 

 

Daehyun looks visibly relieved when Youngjae comes out to greet the Aunty and Uncle less than three minutes later, immaculately dressed and wings nowhere in sight. Seriously, Youngjae thinks as he pours tea for the four of them and Daehyun shows his parents around the apartment, that idiot needs to give him more credit. He mastered the skill of conforming to socially acceptable outer appearances when he was four years old.

 

 

“I don’t believe this.” Daehyun says when he gets back from seeing his parents off to the station, sagging against the door as soon as it closes behind him. He makes an exaggeratedly dazed expression and slides down, one bent wrist placed at his forehead in apparent despair.

“What.” Youngjae says from the sofa. He finally got some of the ruffled feathers on the right wing sorted out.

“They loved you? They called you a ‘nice, well-brought up young man’? What about me? I’m the perfect son!”

“Last semester you drunk texted your dad.”

“I am the perfect fun loving son then.”

“with pictures.”

Daehyun shudders. “Not my best selcas.” He removes his wrist from his eyes, and appears to notice the cocoon of feathers that is Youngjae on their sparse couch in their new, sparse living room for the first time. “Youn-I-are you naked _again_?”

Youngjae sighs. “Preening, okay?”

 

 

“Why does Youngjae have to get naked to preen?” Daehyun sighs into his popcorn.

“You want some popcorn with that butter soup?” Himchan asks, glancing at Daehyun’s popcorn bag disapprovingly. “Also, the skyfolks’ skin gets… feathery when the wings come out. Youngjae probably wants to smooth out the smaller feathers on his… well, places.”

Daehyun glares at Himchan suspiciously. “First of all, this is the perfect popcorn-butter ratio determined through years of experimentation. Second of all, how do you even know that? What kind of kinky inter-species sex have you been having?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Yongguk sighs. “We actually really, really would not like to know. Can we just, actually watch this please?”

Jongup turns to Daehyun from his position squished between Yongguk and Himchan as the opening credits starts rolling “Speaking of Youngjae hyung, where is he?”

“He said he’ll be here after a shower. Did you know his preening took him _three whole hours_?”

“Same length as your skin care routine then,” Himchan scoffs, “so what?”

Daehyun flushes, “It’s just… I never thought about it before, you know? Their wings are always so nice and soft and stuff. Do they have to do this preening thing often? Does it bother them if they don’t? I mean like, I can go without my skin care… maybe… for a couple of days? I guess?”

Himchan puts a hand over his lips “As your hyung, I order you to shut up, the beginning of this movie is _art_.”

“Why didn’t you ask Youngjae hyung? He probably knows best. Or Junhongnie.” Jongup comments

“I couldn’t just ask? He was naked? It’s not polite to ask your roommate personal hygiene questions when they are naked? Also, Junhongnie arrives tomorrow...maybe I should ask him, yeah.”

“Can’t believe you had Yoo Youngjae naked with you and didn’t at least ask to take pictures.” Himchan says whistfully

“ _Hyung._ ”

“Kim Himchan,” Yongguk interrupts, eyes apparently glued to their TV screen, “please shut up.”


	2. moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in physics, moment is a quality of force and distance, for instance: M = Fd

The station is teeming with people, but even without his wings out, Junhong’s height makes him hard to miss. Youngjae bounds over to him and gives him a smacking kiss on the cheek, Daehyun sniggers at Junhong’s horrified expression. Briefly, he feels a twinge of regret that he can’t feast his eyes on Choi Junhong’s magnificent wings but almost immediately, a much larger twinge of shame washes over him. He’s acting just like those wing-craze groupies, gross. Daehyun shakes his bangs off his forehead to dislodge the lingering sense of embarrassment, and grabs one of Junhong’s luggages.

He grins at the youngest, “Come on, Himchan’s cooking a ‘welcome to the shithole’ dinner for us.”

“Is our place that bad?” Junhong asks, his eyebrows twisted in worry. The kid is adorable, despite being twice as tall as anyone else. Somehow this doesn’t seem very fair to Daehyun.

“I think he meant uni in general.”

 

 

 

It’s not that Daehyun has a wing fixation. People with that sort of thing shouldn’t be allowed to have two winged roommates, for one thing. He’s just curious, all right? It’s human nature to be intrigued by the beautiful and the unknown, he’s pretty sure he read that somewhere.

Anyways, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with admiring the stunning beauty of Junhong’s wings. They are light, an almost pearly white and speckled with a dull blue-grey at the base. Junhong’s wings are large and powerful, trailing on the ground when drooped, and almost doubling his already impressive height when stretched out in preparation for flight. Unlike Youngjae, he keeps them out often, sometimes just for the pleasure of having a breeze rustle his feathers. Even when they are not out, his tendency of wearing the open-back tops favoured by the skyfolk through any type of weather leaves no question to his heritage. In contrast, all Daehyun can say for sure about Youngjae’s wings is that they are dark, because Daehyun can count on one hand how many times he’s seen them - and have two fingers left over. Youngjae doesn’t own any clothes that wouldn’t rip into shreds if he ever decided to snap out his wings just for fun.

 

Daehyun almost drops his mug when he arrives muzzily into their dining room. Youngjae is having breakfast shirtless and his wings are trailing on the ground carelessly.

“Morning,” Youngjae greets him sleepily

“Holy shit.” Daehyun breathes.

“Just step over them. It’s way too early in the morning for me to make the effort to pull them in.”

“Holy. Shit.”

“What, you’ve seen them before.”

“Like, twice? You only take them out when you’re sulking and wants a feather wall. So technically I’ve never seen them outstretched.”

“That is so not true.”

“Holy shit they’re… they’re huge. They’re even longer than Junhong’s? Do you have problems balancing?”

“Dae…”

“Oh, my god. They literally span the whole dining room.”

“Junhong can lie down and span our dining room.”

“My point exactly.”

Youngjae gives an amused snort. He’s dangerously close to falling asleep in his rice porridge.

“I mean, like,” Daehyung continues, mouth running on automatic as his eyes are still trying to sort out the scene before him, “you’re so tiny, how do you fit that giant thing ins-“

“Finish that sentence and I will send your latest drunk selcas to Himchan on SNS.”

Daehyun’s head snaps up. “You wouldn’t.” he hisses “that’s a bluff.”

Younjae makes a show of picking up his phone, and scrolling through the gallery.

“I got drunk, like, once this month, and I most certainly did not take any photos.”

“You were really drunk, man. Drunk enough to use _my_ phone to take some really, really interesting selcas” Youngjae flashes the phone screen at him, the image on it is unmistakably-

Youngjae’s wings are suddenly pinning his midriff against the wall as he tries to leap onto the other, hands outstretched and making clawing movements. Why are that smug little shit’s extra appendages so fucking strong?

“No,” Daehyun whimpers at Youngjae’s decidedly evil smirking “no, this isn’t how I want to go. Jae-jae my bestest friend, please delete that-”

“Hyungs. What the fuck.” Junhong says from the doorway, blinking sleepily, hair sticking at right angles to his head.

 

“So um.” Daehyun utters intelligently, “do you….?”

Youngjae gives him a questioning glance, rolling his shoulders. Junhong had fallen asleep with one spoon full of rice porridge still half raised. Daehyun realises he’s staring at Youngjae’s back, where a pair of appendages longer than Youngjae himself had just disappeared and smoothed into bare skin. Staring is probably, most definitely rude, not allowed, or something. Daehyun’s brain is having trouble string together coherent thoughts.

“If you are going to make dick jokes, let’s just say my revenge will be harsh and sweet.”

“Does it hurt?” Daehyun blurts out, “When you pull it in?”

Youngjae gives him an exceedingly unimpressed look, the one that seems to be reserved for him nowadays. Daehyun re-played his question in his mind. “-oh my god, I didn’t mean- ooooh my god- there’s literally no other way for me to ask? – seriously this one isn’t even that-?” He makes hand wavy motions in an attempt not to trigger any sudden revenge schemes.

With his face still glued to the table, Junhong sniggers, apparently still awake enough to appreciate Daehyun’s rare moments of speechlessness, the little traitor.

Youngjae takes pity on him, “Nah, it just takes a bit of effort,”

“-like stretching out your muscles after working out.” Junhong mumbles helpfully. Youngjae nods and continues, “It’s different for everyone of course, but wings-out and wings-in doesn’t really feel all that different to me.”

He leaves the kitchen and returns a few moments later, smoothing down his shirt and pulling on a jacket. “To be honest, we have it a lot better than the land dwelling merfolk. Like, they have to stay hydrated _all the time_. There used to be this girl in my school, she had to, like, continuously pour water over herself during sports.”

“Sounds…wet.”

“Hyung, why does everything you say sound dirty.” Junhong mutters into the plastic tabletop that his spoon is slowly but steadily leaking porridge over.

“It’s a gift, baby Junhong-ah. Speaking of which,” he makes sure he raises his voice so that Youngjae, putting on shoes by the door, can hear as well, “you know what they say about guys with big wings?”

He ducks as Junhong’s spoon and Youngjae’s slipper flies towards him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes there's mermaids in the story.


	3. vortex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A vortex is region in which the fluid medium rotates around an axis.

The problem with having what appears to be a whole posse of best friends, is that when three of you live in one apartment on _this_ side of campus, and the other three live in a studio on the _completely opposite_ side of campus, things tend to get mixed up, never to be returned to their original owner.

Daehyun spends twenty minutes looking for his psychology textbook by upturning everything that isn’t nailed down. Eventually, his questing fingers locate the corner of a hardcover under a pile of clothes, but his whoop of joy dies un-uttered on his tongue when he pulls out a textbook twice as thick as the one he’s looking for, and with brightly coloured ball-and-stick models on the cover.

 

“Youngjae!”

Daehyun is getting use to his two roommates wandering around clad only in loose sweatpants. Apparently, having air on their skin is just, a thing they like. Himchan likes to mock drum instead of sit still, Daehyun likes to make hand motions when he talks, and his skyfolk roommates like to go shirtless at home. No big deal.

Daehyun doesn’t mind, not at all.

It’s just, _both_ of them have such _unfairly_ nice skin.

Youngjae is doing crunches wearing an extremely loose black tanktop. It looks suspiciously similar to one of Himchan’s.

“What?”

“Whose book of alchemy is this?”

“What?” Youngjae repeats, getting up to take a closer look at the textbook Daehyun is waving around. “Daehyun, that’s a _chemistry_ textbook. _For chemistry_. We had a course with this textbook last year.”

“Chemistry, alchemy, same thing.”

Youngjae narrows his eyes at him, “How did you even pass Chem?”

“With flying colours, actually.” Daehyun replies, as cheeky as he dares, “You’re missing the point. I sold my copy of this piece of shit, like, three thousand years ago, so this must be yours. Take responsibility and get this abomination out of my sight.”

He waves a hand imperiously as Youngjae plucks the textbook out of his grasp. “Be gone, foul fiend!”

“Foul fiend? Alchemy? What have you been watching?” Youngjaes flips open to the first page of the textbook, then shoves it back into Daehyun’s hands, pointing.

Daehyun looks down to where Youngjae’s finger is tapping little moons and planets drawn in blue ink across the letterings of the front page. One of the bigger planets have some kind of Godzilla monster on it.

“Dammit, JUNHONG!”

“He’s not home. You’ll have to deliver this to Jongup all by yourself.”

“-but I need to find my psych textbook!”

“Pretty sure that’s at their place.”

“But it’s sooooooo faaaaaaaaar.”

“You’re a big boy, you’ll manage.”

“This is so uncool, I’m the oldest hyung here!”

“Sure don’t act like it,” Youngjae smirks as he starts doing crunches again.

 

 

 

 

Daehyun groans into his tea and gives studying up as a bad job gone wrong. Six hours is enough. His eye bags are covering half his face now and it’s only half way through midterm seasons. He can feel the skin over his right temple twitching.

And, it’s cold.

Making distressed sounds low in his throat, Daehyun makes his way across to where Junhong is stretched over the couch, long legs over one armrest and head propped against the other. He holds a giant textbook awkwardly above his face, his ears are covered by headphones and milky feathers spill out from underneath his bare chest. Daehyun drops himself unceremonially over Junhong, and snuggles into the heat of his skin. They are always _so warm_. It’s a metabolism thing, Daehyun remembers from biology, extremely efficient burning of nutrients into useful energy, like a bird. He sighs happily. Or something.

Junhong flicks him on the head. Daehyun raises his chin to meet his eye.

“Yo,” Junhong says, removing his headphones, grinning and apparently unperturbed that his hyung is lying between his legs and using him as an electric blanket.

“Junhong, you’re my favourite.” Daehyun tell him seriously. “Please don’t make me move.”

Junhong just laughs and uses Daehyun’s head to prop up his textbook more comfortably.

If he has to become a glorified book stand in exchange for this level of gorgeous warmth and, well, the feeling of those dark twisted knots in his chest unravelling into golden threads of content through his bloodstream, then Daehyun is more than happy to oblige. He snuggles his face into Junhong’s stomach again, falling into a comfortable slumber to the turning of pages above him and Junhong’s fingers absentmindedly carding through his hair.

He wakes to fingers poking the tip of his nose. When he opens his eyes, Youngjae pauses in his poking, only to resume again as if Daehyun is a malfunctioning button on his calculator. He’s sitting on the ground against the couch, hair tips wet from a shower. Or the rain. Daehyun wonders what time it is.

“You’re back,” Daehyun comments, his words slightly slurred since his left cheek is still smoshed against Junhong’s skin. He can feel the buzzing vibration of Junhong’s heartbeat underneath him, the expansion of his lungs peacefully rocking Daehyun up and down.

Poke. “Dae…” Poke “why are you” Poke “lying on” Poke “the maknae’s crotch” Poke. Poke.

Daehyun raises an arm lazily and swats at Youngjae. “It’s warm.”

Above him Junhong murmurs something between snores.

“Pathetic human metabolism” Youngjae sighs, flexing his wings over the couch.

Something soft and tingly bubbles within Daehyun, and he presses his smile against Junhong’s stomach as dark feathers cocoons him. All three of them are probably delirious from overexposure to course work, but that doesn’t matter when Youngjae is stretching tiredly and placing his head down next to Daehyun’s, using the couch space next to Junhong’s hipbone as a pillow. This, Daehyun knows with absolute certainty, this insignificant moment in this unremarkable night, this lazy slice of time that contains three boys slumped together in exhaustion, is the moment that Daehyun will take with him from this shitty apartment and store in the space between his ribs and deep in the cracks of his soul. He memorizes the dim glow of the bathroom’s night light fractured by Youngjae’s lashes and the warm buzz of Junhong’s skin and knows that these tiny secrets will aid him through the darkness and cold that he hates so much.

He falls back asleep rocked by Junhong’s breathing, Youngjae’s wet hair tips tickling his cheek.

 

 

 

 

Daehyun nudges Yongguk with his elbow as he sits down beside him, carefully placing down the tray of rice and side dishes.

“Hyung, did you see Junhong’s text? He’s asking where Jonguppie is. Apparently he didn’t show for Econ.”

Yongguk scrunches up his eyebrows, “This morning he said he’s not feeling too well and is going to skip first class. But if he’s still not on campus, it might be worse than we thought.”

Himchan wipes the corners of his mouth delicately with a napkin. “I’ll go check up on him, I have the rest of the day off anyways.”

Yongguk still looks worried, Himchan leans over and gives his cheek a pat. “Chill, I can play nurse. Just remember to buy some milk before you go home.”

“Take him to the campus clinic if it’s really serious.” Yongguk says as Himchan stands to leave.

“Hyung, the day Jongup is sick enough to go to a clinic is the day I become vegetarian.” Daehyun says pacifyingly.

“Vegetarianism practices have great health benefits.” Yongguk gives him a slightly reproachful look.

“Bang hyungnim, your words pain me.”

“It’s also good for your skin.” Himchan calls out as he leaves, because Himchan is an asshole like that.

“My skin is fine!”

 

Youngjae is somehow managing to make incredible headway through his readings standing at the bus stop despite the fact that there’s enough wind to carry away babies and small dogs. Daehyun would be impressed if he isn’t too busy trying to make sure he’s not going blind from his bangs lashing around like sharp whips. He shifts closer to Youngjae and tries to huddle in the lee of Youngjae’s body, not that his tiny tiny frame does anything to block the wind.

Yougnjae sighs, “Stop worrying.”

“I’m not worried.” Daehyun lies, “just, cold.”

“You’re doing the lip-licking thing. Jonguppie is going to be fine.”

Daehyun licks his lips again. It’s chapping from excessive moisture in the wind. “It’s just, Himchan hyung never texted back...”

He can see Junhong’s silver hair bobbing towards the bus stop. A smile etches itself across his jaw, releasing some of the tension wired into his frame. His hand comes up automatically to wave, but Junhong is still too far to see him. Daehyun considers texting him to hurry up. As a hyung he’s entitled to some levels of being an annoying little shit after all.

He’s reaching for his phone when he sees a man step in front of Junhong solidly from the spaces between buildings, trapping him on the narrow sidewalk with a hand hovering over Junhong’s wrist. Daehyun can only see the back of the man. His hands are drawing small circles in the air as if he’s talking rapidly. Daehyun can’t discern the topic of their discussing from this distance, but Junhong’s shoulders are hunched in a position that is familiar to him. The eye of his imagination can paint with perfect accuracy Junhong’s slanted eyebrows and parted lips, eyes blinking into graceful tildes. He’s seen that look enough times during midterm season. Junhong is confused.

Daehyun realizes he took a step forward involuntarily, almost bumping into a girl with headphones bobbing her head lightly to music.

The man has a hand on Junhong’s arm now, the other hand making bigger motions as he talks. His pants rides low on his hips and he has the look of things that’s tread more alleyway cobblestones than sidewalk tiles. Daehyun goes around the girl and is walking in quick steps toward Junhong when the kid pulls of his wallet. Behind him, Youngjae asks him where he’s going but there’s no time to explain-

Daehyun is already running when the man snatches up Junhong’s wallet and disappears into the mouth of the alley accelerating. To Daehyun’s horror, Junhong yells “hey!” and gives chase.

Damn stupid kid- Daehyun pumps his legs faster. –stupid innocent kid who still carries around cash in his wallet because he doesn’t have a credit card yet.

-A silver haired, smooth skinned, large eyed kid with cash in his wallet. Oh god.

Dread propels Daehyun into gaining speeds he didn’t know he can reach.

-A silver haired, smooth skinned, large eyed kid wearing an open back button up with cash in his wallet. Fuck.

He’s sprinting now, his lungs giving him urgent signals that they might shrivel up and die.

The mouth of the narrow alleyway is darkened with tiny overhanging balconies. Daehyun arrives at such speeds that he bruises his shoulder against the opposite wall and rolls across it before his legs sort themselves out. He plunges on without stopping to think.

 

In hindsight, that might have been a misjudgment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I added relationship tags because that's what it's progressing into apparently.


	4. compressibility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Compressibility is a property of fuilds that measures the relative changes of subject under pressure.

Junhong’s white shirt, pale skin and silver hair stands out like fresh snow on asphalt in the darkened alley way. The men he’s facing down, however, blend into the dim backdrop like creatures that evolved protective camouflage. Junhong is standing still, clearly unsure of what to do now faced with four opponents.

“---just one picture, and you’ll get this back.” The one waving Junhong’s wallet is leering.

“…Hey….you…” Daehyun wheezes, bent double “leave him… alone.”

All five of them turns towards him. Oh god, he didn’t think this through, did he.

“Leave, man. This’ got nufin’ t’do with you.” Says a voice behind him. _Oh god_. There’s a fifth alley lurker.

Daehyun is still holding his phone. It’s pure survival instinct that has him raising it and sliding it into video mode. “Seriously! Leave us… alone!” Holy shit he needs to exercise more. How is he still winded?

He makes sure his video records all the faces of the alley lurkers clearly, especially the one that is waving around the wallet before they caught on to what he’s doing.

“Hey, gimmi that phone.” One of them makes a lunge towards Daehyun. He squeals and rushes closer to Junhong - oh god he’s so terrified - and quickly pockets his phone in an inside pocket.

Another man is leering “We just wanted a picture of yer pretty back and we’ll give the wallet back. But now I think we outta take that phone of yer friend too.”

“You want to see my wings?” Junhong says, and somehow, just like his pale skin and white shirt, his words pierce through the alley way. Daehyun thinks he might be more terrified of his little dongsaeng right now than anything else. When had Junhong learn to use that tone of voice - harsh and unyielding?

Daehyun lets out an extremely manly, dignified yell as Junhong’s wings snap out like a tidal wave of muscle and feathers. Okay, it was a high, squeaking frightened scream, but he feels it’s justified because Junhong is apparently a scary fucker with wings that can pin two grown men up against alley walls. When Junhong folds his wings back again, the two men slid down the wall, and stays down. Junhong picks up his wallet from one of the fallen men.

“Oh help me mother.” Daehyun whimpers dumbly.

Two men rushes at Junhong, yelling angrily, but with one surging movement Junhong’s wings are pushing down and he rises like in graceful counterweight, lanky limbs latching on to a second floor balcony.

The one behind Daehyun rushes at him instead, and Daehyun is too panicked to do anything other than putting his arms up in a laughable attempt at self-protection. He’s a lover, not a fighter, dammit.

The man never reached him.

“Jae?” Daehyun squeaks, because no, his small roommate did not just swoop into a darkened alley, and kicked a man in the face. That just… doesn’t happen.

Youngjae is carrying his jacket and his backpack is slung over one shoulder. The back of his shirt is ripped into tatters to accommodate for his wings. He doesn't even pause after _breaking a man’s nose – holy mother of pearls he broke a man’s nose?!_ – but merely spins around in a whirlwind of feathers and wraps his arms around Daehyun’s chest, under his armpits.

“Oh my god no Jae I’m scare of heighhhno JAE, JAE OH MY GOD OH GOD OH GOD-”

 

Youngjae places Daehyun down on a roof several blocks away. As soon as he touches solid roof, Daehyun folds himself into a ball in as dignified a manner as he can manage while still whimpering. He thinks he’s reacting quite well considering he just escaped five thugs and _is currently on the slanted roof of a ten story high apartment complex_.

He whimpers more urgently, hands scrabbling at Youngjae. Thankfully Youngjae seems to understand and holds his forearm in a bruising grip. Daehyun’s panic eases a little. He manages to open his eyes.

A cluttering of skateboard shoes indicates Junhong’s arrival. He crawls over to where Daehyun and Youngjae are huddled together, wings twitching in agitated spurts.

The glisten in his eyes momentarily shocks Daehyun out of his terror.

“Hyungs” Junhong says, breathe catching, before Daehyun and Youngjae each reaches out an arm and pulls him into their huddle.

Deahyun works on controlling his breathing as Junhong’s head pushes into the bracket formed between the other two’s chests, babbling and shaking.

“He… he said he needed bus money… they wanted me to strip ‘n … said they just want a picture of …wings… they…”

“Shh, it’s okay, hyungs got you.’ Youngjae soothes, one hand rubbing circles between the base of Junhong’s wings and the other still gripping Daehyung, grounding him.

“Yeah,” Daehyun tries to pitch his voice to sound cheerful, but just ends up being an octave higher than normal instead. “I have a video of their faces, we can take this to Yongguk hyung and he’ll take this up to the campus security.”

They stay like that for a while, Daehyun keeping the other two as close as he can and tries not to think about depth, or gravity.

“Hyung, I want to go to Yongguk hyung _right now_.” Junhong whispers.

“Can we,” Daehyun is back to whimpering again, great. “please take the bus?”

 

In the end, with Junhong wrapped in his jacket and clinging to his arm, Deahyun leads the way to the studio that Yongguk, Himchan and Jongup shares. Youngjae heads home first, because his shirt is falling off his chest and he doesn’t fancy the idea of going around topless.

They run into Yongguk, holding a grocery bag containing a carton of milk and a box of cookies at the bottom of the stairs. Yongguk shoos them inside as Daehyun fills him in on the situation, Junhong immediately heads to the washroom, wanting to wash his face.

“Send me a copy of that video,” Yongguk says, “I’ll do everything I c-“

Yongguk stops. Daehyun sees them too. Himchan and Jongup are tangled on the couch, both seemingly asleep. Jongup is sweating and his face is twisted in discomfort. He’s only wearing a pair of boxers. Himchan has his arms wrapped around Jongup, his mouth is hanging open slightly and Daehyun can see his chest moving up and down with the effort of breathing. His face is so pale he take on a light blue tinge.

“Hyung?” Daehyun asks, stretching a hand towards Himchan’s forehead, “Is Jongu- oh my god-“

Daehyun rips his hand away, Himchan’s skin felt like he might break into flakes like deep fried pastries.

“Junhong!” Yongguk bellows from behind him, heading towards the washroom “Junhong, I need you take me to where you get your wings checked, immediately.”

 

The three of them manage to get both Himchan and Jongup to the tiny clinic for none human folk that Junhong frequents in under ten minutes. Neither of them woke up on the way.

 

“Mr. Moon is going to be fine.” Doctor Park tells them. “He’s running an unnaturally high fever, but that is quite normal for a late-developer.”

“A late-?”

“It appears Mr. Moon has some sky-blood in his ancestry. His body is trying to grow wings, but to do that it’s re-designing itself, basically, and burning a lot of energy. This delayed development is not that unusual, but usually occurs…earlier.”

“Can I go see him?” Junhong asks

“Of course. He’s still feverish and sleeping at the moment. But you’re welcome to sit with him.”

Doctor Park watches Junhong slip into Jongup’s room before turning back to Yongguk and Daehyun, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and consulting her clip board again. “You other friend, though… he’s in a rather critical condition.”

 

Next to the peacefully submerged figure of Himchan, Yongguk and Daehyun stands, solemn and apprehensive.

When the unasked question weighed too much on Daehyun’s tongue, he utters it in a whisper, terrified that his voice might somehow cause damage to Himchan’s precarious state.

“Hyung? Did you know?”

“No.” Youngguk’s voice is a caress of deep vibrations. He doesn’t take his eyes off Himchan’s pale, blue tinged face, “I suspected.”

Daehyun supposes he should have too. The way Himchan seems to sweat off half his weight in the summer, but bundles on twice his weight in layers comes winter. The way he goes through water bottles faster than food containers.

Almost cold-blooded sensitivity to temperatures, constant hydration. A merfolk. Of course.

And he let himself dehydrate to dangerous levels simply because his skin is better at absorbing the heat of Jongup’s fever than icepacks.

And now, he’s lying in a shallow, bed sized tank with only his elevated face above water, and that’s all Doctor Park can do to keep him from slipping into a coma. Daehyun thinks about how much the tank looks like a watery coffin, then tries really hard to erase that thought.

“I just thought,” Yongguk whispers, “if he is, it’s not my business to ask, and he would know how to take care of himself…”

Yongguk stops and takes in a haggard breath. When Daehyun finally slides his gaze away from Himchan’s sleeping form and takes in Yongguk’s expression, there’s guilt written in large letters all over his face.

“Oh hyung,” Daehyun breathes, finally letting the tears that’s been sitting on the edge of his lid for what seemed like hours push their way out. He steps forwards and wraps his arms around Yongguk, who still hasn’t taken his eyes off the tank. “Oh hyung, it’s not your fault.”

 

For the next few days, their apartment barely sees any of the three occupants. Daehyun and Youngjae ends up at the studio most of the time, helping Yongguk file out a report on Junhong’s attack for campus security, and visiting Himchan and Jongup at Park’s clinic when they can.

Junhong brings snacks and course work to Jongup and stays with him as he rests up and does muscle exercise under Doctor Park’s strict observation to get use to his new appendages. When Jongup is released from Dr. Park’s tiny clinic four days later, he has new, tiny sand-coloured wings, each a handspan across, lying flat on his back. Daehyun and Yongguk watches as Jongup makes tiny whimpering noises when Junhong and Youngjae takes turns rubbing out the muscles around his tiny clusters of feathers whenever they can.

Jongup can’t pull his wings back like the other two. But they are so small they fit under his clothes quite well. He doesn’t go to dance practice that weekend.

“They throw my balance off when I spin, I’m going to practice at home for a while, until I’m used to it.” He says.

 

A week later, Himchan is pronounced healthy, and is released from Doctor Park’s care.

Daehyun panics. He never came into contact with a merfolk before. Well obviously he has, but he didn’t _know_.

They are going to throw a welcome back party, and Daehyun has no idea how he’s going to face Himchan and Jongup, now that they are...

 

Youngjae finds Daehyun sitting alone on the ground in his room. “Junhong left early to help get their place ready. You wanna grab some booze before heading over?”

“Youngjae, what am I going to say to Himchan hyung?”

“I thing he rather people not mention the he almost died thing.”

“No, I mean like, what if I, say something or do something offensive? Like, I know nothing about mer-culture?”

“This is Himchan hyung we’re talking about, right? Your face probably offends him.”

“ _Youngjae._ I’m being serious here!”

Youngjae scoffs, and sit down across form him, crossed legged.

“Stop worrying. You don’t know anything about skyfolk culture either, but that never stopped you from talking too much around Junhong and me.”

Daehyung makes an extremely embarrassing whining noise, and blushes “D-Do I? Is that bad? Should I not talk so much? But I can’t just shut down my talking- talking is like, a healthy thing, you know? Sharing of feelings leads to healthy relationships and-“

Youngjae swats at him irritably. “Okay, shut up. Let me put it another way. Let’s say, if I were to tell you I’m gay, would that change what you think of me?”

Daehyun gapes at him, “Of course not! I mean, I guess I wouldn’t introduce girls to you anymore but- Is this you coming out to me? Because-“

“Daehyun, no. Listen okay?” Youngjae shoves at him, clearly annoyed. Daehyun lets himself fall backwards against the bed.

“The point is, if a friend is to come out to you, you wouldn’t change your opinions about them, right? Sure, you would be more sensitive about their orientation, but it shouldn’t change how you view them _fundamentally_ , right? Their orientation shouldn’t become the encompassing thing that you associate with them, because it’s just a part of who they are, right?”

Daehyun nods. He never would actually say any of it like that, but Youngjae had always had a way with words that seem to take the mess of thoughts tangled in Daehyun’s head and articulate them like mathematical equations- simplified to its purest form, every equal sign sliding cleanly in place.

Youngjae takes a deep breath, and suddenly, Daehyun’s tiny bedroom is filled with feathers.

“These are the same, these wings, they represent what I am, but they are not _who_ I am. They are a part of me, not the whole of me. They identify my species, but they don’t define me, as a person.”

“I know that, I-“

“No, Dae, _listen_. You don’t know. You don’t understand. If you understood, you wouldn’t be here, agonizing over how to behave around Himchan the merman, because you don’t get that Himchan with his merfolk heritage is exactly the Himchan hyung you know before you knew about, all this, okay? _You’re not seeing anything past his heritage_.”

Daehyun opens his mouth to answer, then shuts it again. Slowly, his head hangs, until he’s staring at his folded hands in his lap. He can feel a blush beginning its heated progress from the base of his ears.

He feels Youngjae shuffle closer to him, but shame is washing over him in tsunamis now, giant waves of it bashing down his flimsy walls of self-righteousness, and washes away the top layer of his concerns to reveal the sharp edges of his prejudices underneath. It’s amazing. Youngjae used three sentences to turn his mind completely inside out.

Youngjae’s hand lands on his shoulder, and he gives him a reassuring squeeze. “I was a bit harsh,”

“No, you-I, - I was being stupid.”

“Nothing unusual then,” Youngjae smiles, then snuggles down beside Daehyun, wings blanketing over them both. “Don’t beat yourself up so much, I can practically see you mentally preparing to convert to Buddhism.”

“And eat boiled tofu for the rest of my life? No thanks.” Daehyun chuckles shakily, mind still reeling from the enormity of the realization that his whole cognitive process is based on prejudices that he despises in others. It’s shocking how deep rooted these bigotries he didn’t even know he has actually are. “I’m, I’m sorry. I was- I just-“

Youngjae’s wing tightens around him. “You’re a good guy, Daehyun, don’t ever doubt that. Just, that kind of thinking, it’s dangerous. It puts one species above another, and that’s not right. I mean, we are all different, but different never equals better.”

Daehyun nods, stunned silent.

Youngjae leans his head on Daehyun’s shoulder with a long exhale and continues, “The thing is, when there’s three species that are equally cognitive, it’s hard to say if we truly are different or not. It’s even more difficult because we can interbreed. Like Jongup. He didn’t even know he has skyfolk blood in him, and how he has wings. Does the years he spent thinking he is a hundred percent human makes him human or do the wings make him a skyfolk? The truth is, he’ll never be accepted as either. Humans will see wings and say he’s skyfolk, but skyfolks will see that his wings will never fly and say he’s just a human with interesting ancestry.”

Daehyun turns shocked eyes to Youngjae, “But that’s horrible!”

“Maybe. But, the difference between you and Jongup is, he doesn’t really care either way.”

“Are you saying I care too much?”

“Yes, I am. It’s not a bad thing necessarily, but you’re just letting it get to you, and it’s hurting you.”

They sit for a while, wrapped in feathers and matching their heartbeats, and Daehyun lets Youngjae’s words soak into him.

“You’ll make a great counsellor someday.” Daehyun tells him earnestly. From what he can see of Youngjae’s face still propped against his shoulder, Youngjae looks genuinely pleased. Daehyun feels some of the weight lift off of his burdened conscious. Thoughts still hammer inside his skull, but less charged with shame and more propelled by something more philosophical.

“You’ve thought a lot about all this” Daehyun comments, absentmindedly stroking Youngjae’s auburn feathers. Youngjae shudders pleasantly and snuggles closer to Daehyun’s side when his fingers cards through some ruffled patches,

“Growing meter long wings when you’re four years old does that to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is basically an extended metaphor on some things I think a lot about.


	5. aerostatics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aerostatics is the study of gaseous fluids not in motion, as suppose to aerodynamics, the study of gases in motion. Static equilibrium is achieved when forces and moments in one direction is perfectly balanced by forces and moments in the opposite direction.

By unspoken consensus, when all six of them hang out together, they do it in the studio. Himchan and Yongguk are both graduate students, and both have moderate incomes. Jongup too, part-times at a local training center. Thus, the three of them are able to afford the comparatively less shitty studio apartment that Daehyun, Youngjae and Junhong cannot touch with their meager student loans.

Daehyun likes the studio because it has nice large windows that let in actual sunlight and contains hyungs to tease. Junhong likes it because it’s more spacious and more sound-proof. As far as Daehyun can tell, Youngjae just comes over for the monster of a coffee machine Himchan installed.

 

 

“Ok, I’ve had enough of this bullshit.” Himchan announces, eyes narrowing into slits.

He stalks over to where Jongup is sitting, and promptly straddles the younger’s thighs. Before anyone can react, Himchan leans over and kisses Jongup very solidly on the lips.

Daehyun, trying not to giggle, puts a hand over Junhong’s shocked eyes. “Hyung, the maknae is too young to see this.”

When Himchan releases Jongup, the younger looks down right terrified. Himchan glares down at him. “You see this? I’m totally, one hundred percent fine. Okay? I’m not going to fucking burst into flame if you touch me. You’re not going to dehydrate me unless you can manage a seventy degree fever again, okay? Christ on a bike, I’m not going to die from body heat.”

“Himchan…” Yongguk frowns from the doorway to the kitchenette.

“ _And you-_ “ Himchan rounds on Yongguk, leaving a very dazed Jongup blinking confusedly on the couch. Yongguk steps back, alarmed. Sniggering, Daehyun tightens his grip over Junhong’s eyes, despite the younger scrabbling at him. With his other hand he reaches for his phone. If Himchan is going to kiss Yongguk hyung too, he needs to get it on camera.

To Daehyun’s slight disappointment, instead of shoving his tongue down Yongguk hyung’s throat, Himchan yanks Yongguk’s hand up and around, and with rather worrying ease, twists that arm up behind Yongguk’s back. Yongguk gives an uncharacteristically high whimper.

Daehyun takes some photos anyways.

“You,” Himchan spits, “don’t get to beat yourself up for being an idiot. Only I get to do that. Got it?”

“Channie, you almost died.” Yongguk bites out, standing on his toes. Daehyun makes a mental note to learn that arm twisting move from Himchan.

“Ok, I was stupid, but both of you need to _stop_ with all this. It’s my fault, okay? I need both of you to stop thinking you might kill me by accident or some shit, and actually talk to me, okay?”

Himchan releases Yongguk and sits down heavily at the dinner table. He suddenly looks drained, his slouching shoulder never looked more hunched. Junhong gently pushes Daehyun’s suddenly limp hand off his eyes, and moves over to Himchan, sitting down by his feet and putting his chin on Himchan’s thigh.

Daehyun stands and takes Jongup’s unresisting hand and follows Junhong. They arrange themselves around Himchan’s calves as well. Somewhere during the four years he’s known him, Himchan lost the roundness under the cheekbones, the softness around the eyes. And Daehyun never noticed how his jaw line found texture in maturity masked under all his sardonic wit, how there are gathering stress lines around his temple.

Jongup leans up and presses a tentative kiss on Himchan’s cheek, and Daehyun can feel the palpable tension leak out of Himchan.

“Sorry hyung.” Jongup says, before making himself comfortable on the ground again. Junhong laughs quietly and reach up to pinch lightly at Himchan’s cheek, amused at Himchan’s craving for closeness.

Himchan smiles, a small one that looks too raw, too soft, too out of place on Himchan’s face. Daehyun blinks and the smile is replaced by his hyung’s usual sharp grin.

All four of them turn to stare at Yongguk expectantly.

“Sorry, Channie.” He says, looking down and trying not to smile at Himchan sitting like a doting trophy grandmother in a pile of mischievous children.

They continue to stare expectantly. Daehyun wiggles his eyebrows for good measure. Himchan is definitely smirking now. Yongguk looks like he might flee and lock himself in the bathroom with a bucket of ice cream.

Youngjae walks in from the balcony where he’s been on the phone with his TA. He takes one look at the stare down, laughs, and tackles Yongguk, pulling him into the huddle.

 

Yongguk and Jongup are still careful with their touches, Daehyun notices, but they make an effort, and that seems to be enough make Himchan happy.

 

 

 

“How are you so smooth?” Youngjae nearly wails, “Even at the base? Like, my hand just glides over?”

“Please,” Daehyun cuts in from the kitchen “tell me you’re not giving each other hand jobs while I’m slaving over here preparing dinner for all of us.”

“The base of his wings, okay? I’m giving him a back massage.” Comes Youngjae’s scandalised voice

“Is that what you kids call it these days?”

“Choke on my feathers.” Youngjae yells back.

“You sure there’s not something else you want me to cho-“

Junhong’s moan of utter bliss interrupts him. Daehyun quickly stirs the pot of ramen and wills his eyes not to fall out of their sockets in shock. “For the record, if you are giving each other handjobs, I will burn the couch.”

When he enters their dining area with a pot of ramen and three bowls, he can see Youngjae stretched out on the couch in the living room, Junhong’s large hands fanning out over his back. He resolutely turns his back on the scene, and concentrates on his ramen. Somehow the way Youngjae’s wings twitch and breathe skitters every time Junhong’s fingers complete a slow circle finds a way to become ingrained into Daehyun's brain nevertheless.

 

 

 

“Excuse me?”

Youngjae and Daehyun both look up at the girl that approached them.

“Are you, Yoo Youngjae-ssi?”

“Yes?”

“Ah, this is kind of embarrassing, but my friend and I made a bet, and there’s this rumour going around, you see, and, and we just sort of want to know, you know, if you really are a skyfolk?”

Daehyun can see a guy standing further back, clearly embarrassed, but equally as clearly curious. Suddenly Daehyun is glad they chose an open area to have lunch, where the chatter of students drown out the conversation at their small table.

He also realizes, as the girl stands flighty and happy but ultimately tiny beside the sitting Youngjae, Youngjae is tall, taller than most students anyways. It’s the way that he carries himself, the way he looks like he might bounce off with weightless grace and unlimited energy that makes him seem smaller than he is. Even when his wings are not in sight, they are somehow felt by the back of the eyes, dwarfing Youngjae with their weight, compressing him into a ball of suppressed energy.

He realizes that he wants Youngjae to tell the girl to go away, wants to do so himself. If Youngjae wants campus to know his heritage, he would have purchased one of those open back shirts years ago. It’s no one’s business, it’s not right to just put him on the spot and demand –

“Yeah,” Youngjae answers unperturbed, smiling politely. “I have wings.”

The girl’s breathe catches. “Oh, that’s – can I get a pictu-“

“No.” Daehyun answers, much too quickly and overly loud.

“Ah, of course, of course,” the girl blushes and bows, flustered. “thank you for your time.”

Youngjae regards Daehyun curiously as the girl scampers off to her companion.

“Why are you so sensitive? They are not your wings.” He asks.

“She… I thought it would make you uncomfortable.” Daehyun mutters

Youngjae smiles, “I would be, yes. But not for the reason you think.”

“You don’t know what I think!”

“Daehyun, please. You’re easier to read than freshman music sheets. I’m no more ashamed of my wings than you are of your skin. Some days you like it and some days it’s a nuisance, but most days you don’t even notice. I keep them in because it’s more of … a lifestyle choice, I don’t particularly have a wish to conceal them.”

He pauses, running a finger under his jaw speculatively,

“I just don’t want a picture of them circling around. Did you read the report campus security gave to Yongguk hyung?”

“Yeah.” Daehyun confirms, disgust and dread rolling around in the pit of his stomach just at the thought of what might have happened to Junhong. “I hope they catch them soon.”

 

 

Daehyun walks into his room to find Junhong napping on his bed. Because he is a nice hyung, he doesn’t do anything as rude as say, push the kid out of the bed or plays loud music next to his ear. But, because he is Jung Daehyun, he feels obligated to take some photos first before shaking Junhong awake.

Junhong blinks muzzily at him, realizes he is in the wrong room, apparently decides he doesn’t care enough to move and tries to go back to sleep.

Eventually, after Daehyun threatens tickling and ice cubes, Junhong grudgingly slides out from between the covers, hair wild and eyes barely open. He mutters something along the lines of “goodniiiihyuuummm”, leans over and places a sloppy kiss on Daehyun’s jaw and heads over to his own room, yawning sleepily.

Daehyun’s shock roots him there for a full two minutes, before he reaches up to touch the dissipating warmth on his jaw.

 

 

“Where should we go for the summer?” Daehyun asks the room at large.

“Daehyunnie, it’s like, March.” Himchan complains, “Also, what makes you think we want to spend summer with your loud arse.”

“Because my loud arse is irresistible?” He replies after checking that Himchan isn’t near anything he can easily throw. The man has unnerving aim. “Also, I was thinking, _beach_.”

Youngjae looks up at that. Daehyun smirks because he can almost taste the gleam in Youngjae’s eyes as he considers the possibilities of the sea wind in his wings.

“I can’t swim, and sunbathing is bad for my skin.” Himchan huffs irritably, then looks up at the blossoming silence. “What?”

“Hyung, you’re a … well, a mermaid.” Junhong points out. “You can’t swim?”

“I am not a _maid_ of any kind.” Himchan puts a hand to his chest in a mock offense. Daehyun sniggers, and, much to the shock of the collective, so does Yongguk. Himchan sniffs playfully, “and no, you’d be surprised at how hard it is, learning to swim with two legs when you are born to swim with a tail.”

They take a moment to digest this. Jongup nods in a _that makes sense_ sort of way and going back to his game before Daehyun is even finished processing the fact that _Himchan has a tail_.

“All right, so, mountain climbing?” He suggests weakly.

“I will” Himchan says calmly, not even looking up from his laptop this time “delete all your playlists if you suggest that again.”

 

 

After that one time when, uh, Junhong kind of, fell against his jaw due to lack of sleep, it seems his two roommates are plotting together to systematically drive Daehyun completely and utterly insane.

They probably _planned_ the way Youngjae leans over his back in the morning, reaching for the coffee that Junhong made. His wings arch so that sunlight filters through the thin translucent ends, scattering gold across their messy dinning room. Daehyun is fairly certain unwashed dishes are not supposed to be _pretty_ , but Youngjae’s dark feathers seem to give the light a heavier, richer texture, and the room is bathed with it. Daehyun is also fairly certain Youngjae gave him a squeeze and honest-to-god whispered _good morning_ in his ear with a voice that _Yoo Youngjae_ should have no business using.

And then there’s the way Junhong starts plopping down the ground to study, one hand supporting his head as he reads from his textbooks strewn carelessly across the carpet, his wings two contained messes on the floor. Absentmindedly, while apparently still completely focused on his studies, he would stretch his wings and Daehyun would be hit, repeatedly and brutally, with just how breathtaking they are. He finds himself sliding his gaze down to Junhong’s waist, along his arms before wrenching it back to his own workbooks. Once, he swears he heard Junhong snigger.

Of course, there’s also their suddenly extremely frequent back massages. Even after it becomes a daily ritual for the other two to give small rub downs while the three of them sit and browse TV or catch up on reading together in the evenings, _every single time_ Daehyun looks up just to check they are indeed just giving massages because some of the sounds Junhong makes---

And as for Youngjae’s little breathy intakes as Junhong uses his elbow to push at the particularly dense muscles on the wing—

 

 

“Hyung?” Junhong’s voice calls to him as he passes the maknae’s room.

“Can you rub out my back for me?” He asks as Daehyun’s head appears around the door frame, “I’m super sore from the dance session, and Youngjae hyung is out for study sessions.”

“Ah, sure” Daehyun answers, because he can do it. No worries. He watched them often enough, that’s for sure. He can absolutely do it. He’s ran his hand through Youngjae’s feather just that other day. He’s totally up for the task.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to?” Junhong tells him uncertainly, unnerved by his expression.

“No, no. Hyung will help out the poor suffering maknae with his physical needs.” He quips, and Junhong groans and scowls at the joke. He lets Daehyun straddle him and talks him through how to navigate through the feathers and over the flight muscles.

 

Junhong starts moaning about thirty seconds in.

Daehyun starts having breathing problems about ten seconds after that.

 

“Okay,” Daehyun says after a full minute of persevering “I can’t do this.”

“Why not, hyung?” Junhong twists around to look at him, spine arching and mischief gleaming in his eyes. Something inside Daehyun screams _ABORT_ at him.

Junhong laughs at Daehyun’s expression, one hand coming to rest on his wrist and Daehyun is suddenly anchored under that light touch. “You know how sensitive we are? At the base of the wings?”

He pauses, rolling his shoulders and a shudder runs through his feathers almost involuntarily, “I mean, I’m pretty normal, and it feels _really_ good when hyung press the right places.”

Junhong is doing that thing with his face. The really attractive, sidling of his lips thing that he has no right to just spring on unsuspecting hearts. Daehyun makes a noise probably only dogs can hear. He tries not to look too shocked or affected, but it’s _Junhong_. Daehyun really needs to cut down on the dirty jokes because he is obviously a bad influence on the maknae.

“Youngjae hyung, though, he’s _unnaturally_  sensitive. There’s this one dip between his shoulder blades, last week he almost came in his pants when I-“

“Oh my god, please stop talking and give me my innocent maknae back.” Daehyun pleas.

“You’re blushing.” Junhong tell him with unnecessary glee.

Daehyun makes another noise, the sound exclamation points would make if they are embarrassed. He tries to scramble off the bed, and maybe call the police or something because a doppelganger had switched out his Junhong with this, sexier, dirtier version of Junhong. What the hell.

“Hey wait,” Junhong’s voice has laughter in it, and he laches on to Daehyun from behind as Daehyun’s escape attempt is hindered by his own legs that refuse to corporate. “Hyung I was ki-“

He stops, and Daehyun wants to die because he knows why he stopped. There’s no way Junhong failed to notice how Daehyun is positively shaking with arousal.

“Hey, let hyung go,” Daehyun protests weakly, just as the front door slams indicating Youngjae’s return from study sessions.

“Hyung, why are you so scared of liking me?” Junhong asks, holding Daehyun more firmly against his larger frame. Daehyun gives a whimper as Junhong’s wings are suddenly wrapped warmly around him too. That, is just plain unfair.

“I’m not!” He whines, voice raising several octaves as he is caressed by Junhong’s chuckles that vibrate against the base of his spine. “Junhong-ah, hyung loves you, absolutely loves you so please, please-“

His voice is muffled as Junhong, still chuckling, covers his face, his whole body, in soft feathers. He’s panicking. A part of him - an extremely large part, like ninety percent –wants to bury himself in Junhong’s chest and grab his wings and just drown in the sensations, but the remaining ten percent is giving him a very long list of why doing so is a terrible, terrible idea.

He spent most of his days in this shared apartment listening to that ten percent, by now it’s second nature to obey. It’s one thing to admire the wings, it’s another to _get off on it_. That’s just. Wrong. Disgusting. He can’t. It would be sinking to level of crazy, gross wing fetish old men. He’s greedy, but he’s not _gross_. He wants to keep Youngjae and Junhong with him, even if sometimes he dirties the space with his thoughts, as long as he suppresses---

Junhong’s lips brush the shell of his ear. He yips, and screws his eyes shut so tight tears are forced out. He can’t breathe without growing dizzy with just how _close_ Junhong is, the warmth of his skin burning into his back, his beautiful, powerful wings a soft cocoon around both of them, trapping their scents, their essences together. Daehyun weeps because he wants it, whatever _it_ is. He wants to be trapped here with Junhong forever. But he can’t. Junhong’s right. He’s terrified of liking them, both of them, because he might like them for the wrong reasons.

He might have said that last part aloud, god, he’s so messed up.

“Sometimes I can’t believe how stupid you are.”

It’s Youngjae’s voice, slightly distorted by the blanket of feathers. Not him too, Daehyun thought. Daehyun doesn’t want Youngjae to see him so compromisingly, intimately wrapped in Junhong’s feathers, doesn’t want Youngjae to also know that Daehyun is –

He gives a desperate, hiccuping sob and starts flailing a-fresh, Junhong gently letting him fall out of his hold this time. Unfortunately, the white feathers part to send him straight into Youngjae’s chest.

It seems inevitable. A gentle fall from the heavens, as irresistible as gravity.

“I hate both of you.” Daehyun whispers into Youngjae’s bare shoulder, there’s no more fight in him. There’s no point anyways. He might be able to resist one of them, but both working against him is too great a challenge for his now very weakly protesting ten percent. He concentrates on more important things like, how to not look gross when hiccuping pathetically and how to stop his runny eyes and nose dripping on Youngjae’s pale skin.

-How to not look too terrified when his younger roommate is pressing him backwards into the opening arms of his even younger roommate. How to breathe when he’s bracketed by warmth and his vision is filled by twitching feathers, light and dark mixing like piano keys.

“I thought you ‘absolutely love me’” Junhong whispers the words into his hair, amusement dripping like spicy dipping on sweet rice cakes. “So you must only actually hate Youngjae hyung.”

“How rude.” Youngjae comments lightly, brushing a smile against Daehyun’s jaw.

“-jae” Daehyun pants, there too little air in his lungs, too much blood in his brain, too many sensations trying to tip him from guilty, agonized pleasure to unabashed, shameless ecstasy “Youngjae, Junhongnie, what if. What if I do like you for the – the wrong reasons.” And fresh tears fall from his face because he can’t stand the thought. That his enjoyment of these two beautiful people wrapped around him might stem from something perverse within him. He can’t let them, he can’t let himself.

Junhong’s arms wrap tighter around his middle, and Youngjae kisses the tears off his face before backing off, leaning back against Junhong’s wings and stares unflinchingly down at Daehyun’s laboured expression. “The fact that you asked the question in the first place is a good indication. But if you don’t know if your reasons are right, then I think you should think hard about it before you accept or reject Junhong. Or me. Or both of us. Or yourself.”

“Hyung,” Junhong whispers, sounding as close to tears as Daehyun is to constipation, forearms bunching against Daehyun’s stomach, “am I just a pair of wings to you?”

“No!” Daehyun gasps immediately and honestly, but that fact alone is not enough to convince himself to accept this development, not when he can’t pretend anymore that he so undeniably, shamefully attracted to their wings. The power and girth of them, the way they make their shoulders slope back in graceful curves, the way Youngjae’s arm is rough and soft at the same time in Daehyun’s hands, as if it’s covered by minuscule downy feathers, the way Junhong’s eyes seem to be a shade lighter when he takes his wings out. Is attraction the same as objectification? Sometimes it sure seems like it, and he thinks of dark men lurking in alleys, trying to lure a kid into producing a compromising photo they can sell online; of adolescents around campus giggling and nudging each other wondering what winged sex feels like.

He’s _so messed up_. He can’t let them – let himself – do this, until he is absolutely sure. And he might never be sure. He’s not sure what this is. Attraction? Lust? Love? He’s not even sure what the right reasons may be, but he does know there are so many wrong ones. -And he needs to stop everything and move out and maybe go to another continent if he is close to touching even one of the wrong ones because there’s too much at stake for him to just fuck it up, he loves both of them too much to just –

 

Oh.

 

Youngjae must see his expression because he bears down in a flurry of feathers and skin, with a flash of teeth between his widely smiling lips, and the earth spins for Jung Daehyun.

 

They stay in a bundle for a while. It might have been minutes or centuries, the time it took for them to go from the initial heated kisses to the lazy caresses of fingertips, thighs and lips. They move languidly, letting Daehyun sink into his revelation softly while Junhong and Youngjae kiss in perfect harmony against his neck. Junhong’s soft laughter ring out between them and Youngjae moves with purpose, silent and intense. Daehyun’s pretty sure he’s babbling, murmuring their names and reassuring them and himself with whispers of “Yes, yes-“. He is still not sure if there are right reasons for all this, but anything that can bring out Junhong’s smile that slips to one side and shows his incisors and pushes his eyes into crescents and makes Youngjae’s eyes bright and his hair adorably mussed and Daehyun so, so happy can’t be that wrong. He’s sure of that.

Without ever moving, and without ever stopping their movements, Daehyun and Junhong ends up propped against the pillows on Junhong’s narrow bed, lips barely touching. On his stomach between them, Youngjae watches contentedly, though Daehyun is clearly nodding off, worn out by his tears and emotional self-discovery and lulled by the warmth. He makes a small choking noise when Youngjae leans up and presses a kiss against Junhong’s collar bones, and then a louder groan when one of the joints on Youngjae’s wings come up to caresses against his jaw. Youngjae turns to him at the sound, eyes dark and lips curling, and runs this thumb across Daehyun’s lower lip. Daehyun wonders if his lips look like Youngjae’s, dark and wet and swelling, wonders if his eyes look like Junhongs, half lidded and all pupils and breathtakingly beautiful. He wonders if Youngjae can feel the throbbing of his heartbeat in his lips as insistently as he can, wonders if he can feel the tingling heat of the other two’s affection stamped there. He wonders if Junhong’s wandering fingers picked up that same heartbeat buzzing hotly just under his skin, wonders if he can read in his face how thankful Daehyun is, to come to this understanding, to just, _be together_.

“You know, this is all kinda cliché,” Daehyun murmurs, half asleep with euphonic content.

“What, the two exotic creatures luring the unsuspecting human into a kinky, sex-crazy orgy?” Youngjae smirks at him, still gliding his thumb softly across his lip.

“Okay, first, we haven’t had a kinky, sex-crazy orgy yet.” Daehyun is trying hard to keep down a yawn. Junhong giggles and puts his arms around Youngjae. The kid must be really into spooning. “And second, I was talking about how you two fell for the _handsome, built, really cool_ roommat-“

Youngjae palm is suddenly firmly against his mouth, doing his best to look unimpressed with a snorting Junhong wrapped like seaweed over rice rolls around him. Daehyun tries to wink sexily, but his eyes are having trouble reopening, so he just blinks a few times, hoping he looks mischievous and dashing.

Youngjae gives a put-upon sigh and suddenly, Daehyun is pinned under what seems like several tons of flight muscles and dark feathers while Youngjae straddles Junhong beside him.

“Just for that,” Youngjae tells him with evil glee, as Daehyun struggles sleepily to get free, “I’m going to have my own kinky, sex-crazed orgy with Junhong _without you_.”

“Oh my god, how could you corrupt the maknae, _without me_?” Daehyun whines as Junhong starts moaning with what seems to be exaggerated intent, especially since Youngjae haven’t actually _done_ anything yet “and you can’t have an orgy with just _two people_.”

“We can try.” Junhong says cheekily and Youngjae laughs.

Daehyun can’t remember being happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fic is about seeking comfort, self-identity, and acceptance of self as well as others. The whole thing is basically an extended metaphor for racism, orientation and immigration views and laws as well as how ethnicity differentiation so easily turns into objectification. I’m sorry if it’s not very subtle, or if my intentions were not very clear. 
> 
> I apologize for tricking y’all (and myself) into thinking this would be some pure unadulterated fluff and ends up being all over the place.

**Author's Note:**

> I am actually incapably of doing anything angst/ action without turning around and writing something disgustingly cute to balance it out. So. 
> 
> I am also only capable of AU things so there's that too.


End file.
